For the Love of Me
by Eady of Old
Summary: AU After three years in prison, John Bates loses all hope of being released and decides to set Anna free.
1. Chapter 1

**For the Love of Me**

**Summary:** AU After three years in prison, John Bates loses all hope of being released and decides to set Anna free.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey or the characters.

**A/N:** I felt like writing an angsty piece delving into what would happen if, after enough time passed without his being released from prison, Bates regretted marrying Anna and decided to try and free her from their vows. I anticipate this being a two-parter. Reviews are appreciated.

* * *

Three years.

A lifetime could have passed in the three years since his incarceration and Bates would never have known it, not locked up behind bars. Whereas the world outside had cycled through the seasons three times, his existence continued to be the black and gray of the dead of winter. And his only solace, the only color to flit into his prison, was _her_.

The wardens knew his wife, were always polite to her because they'd gotten to know her over the years. Her kindness was almost legendary as she brought cookies for them on holidays and flowers in the summer. And her smile could charm the venom out of a snake.

"Not sure what you did to con that pretty little thing into marrying you, Bates," one warden told him, an echo of the sentiment they all shared. "Lucky bastard."

Even the other inmates were jealous.

"I told me mum to come on Wednesdays so I could get a look at yer gal there, Bates," commented one of the men with a cell across from his. "Pity she's married to a lifer like you."

If Anna noticed the eyes on her as she walked through the gates and took a seat across from him at the visiting table, she gave no indication. Instead, she always favored him with a grin and a look of pure adoration.

After three years, she still came faithfully, every free half day she got. She still wrote him - twice a week - without fail. And when she smiled at him in greeting, her eyes still shone with love.

"I'm afraid there's still no news from the solicitor," Anna told him on this fateful day three years after his sentencing. "And I still haven't found any new leads. I must have talked to everyone who ever knew her a dozen times now."

Bates could only nod, the magnitude of everything she had done for him choking his throat with emotion.

"I haven't given up," she assured him, misreading the agony in his eyes. "I promise you, I'll never give up until you're free."

"It's been three years, Anna," he managed.

He'd marked the days as they passed with excruciating slowness, counting each one as a broken promise.

"I'm sorry it's taking so long," she told him, sounding as guilty and miserable as he felt. "I should have found something by now-"

He interrupted her, "No, you don't understand. It's been three years. There is no evidence out there. If it existed, you'd have found it already."

She sputtered, caught between the embarrassment at her perceived failure and the resignation in his voice. Anna didn't comprehend his meaning, he realized. She thought he blamed her somehow, as if any of this was her fault.

"We'll find something," she assured him, just as she always did. "If I have to spend the rest of my life looking, I will-"

She stopped as Bates closed his eyes briefly, letting out all the breath from his body. "I don't want that."

"What?"

"I don't want you to give up the rest of your life on this."

Anna searched his face in confusion. "I don't understand. We can't give up-"

"No, that's exactly it. We can give up. _You_ can give up, and you should."

His meaning finally got through to her - he could see it in the way her jaw muscles flexed, in the sudden hardness of her expression. When she spoke, she did so with anger. "Forget you, is that what you want? Leave you here to rot in prison while I move on with my life?"

"Yes," he told her, although saying the word hurt worse than any pain he'd ever experienced. "That is exactly what I want."

As much as he hated pushing her away, Bates knew he'd been selfish to ever become involved with Anna. That selfishness had only gotten worse as he began courting her even before he could be certain of his divorce from Vera. But the ultimate expression of his narcissistic greed for this pure, beautiful woman came on the day he'd met her at the registrar's office in Ripon and exchanged vows with her. Of all the sins he'd committed in his life, tying Anna to him when he knew he faced a murder charge was the worst crime he'd could imagine.

Ironic how his best memory, his most cherished moments, coincided with his greatest shame. She'd been adamant about them marrying but he should have been stronger, should have insisted on waiting until after the police were done with him. Instead, he had been weak. So many times Anna had proposed ways they could be together which were detrimental to her, and each time he had put his foot down, to spare her. But not that time, not when she'd very nearly ordered him to take out the marriage license. That day he'd been weak and selfish in letting her bind herself to him.

At first, Bates could not bring himself to regret the hasty wedding. With Anna by his side, he actually survived the trial and sentencing. He could face the future knowing she would be there every step of the way.

Part of him had assumed that because he had not killed Vera, there had to be some proof to free him. But as each week turned into a new month, doubts crowded his mind. Perhaps there was no proof. Perhaps he would never be let out.

At first, he'd taken solace in Anna's loving faithfulness. He'd wrapped himself in the knowledge that she was out there, waiting for him, and used it as a cloak against the cold, dark nights. But as months faded into years and the years began to stack, his 'perhaps' solidified into sharp reality. Hope faded completely, leaving him with only the letters and visits from his wife. Anna gave him the will to keep living, to make it through one more day, day after day. Her tireless devotion kept him going.

Until one day, a few weeks earlier, when he realized what it was costing Anna. He'd noticed it on one of her regular visits. She always wore hats when she came to the prison, pinned properly into place. But on this day the rain outside had soaked through both her hat and coat, and she shrugged out of the heavy woolen fabric. Then she'd unpinned her hat and put it to the side.

While her hair was still pulled tightly into a bun, for the first time in dozens of months, he saw her just as she appeared in his dreams, blonde hair shining even in the muted light of the prison. And amid the golden hairs on her head, he immediately saw one which was a lighter color. Silver. A single silver hair on Anna's head.

In that moment, he realized that despite her ever youthful appearance, Anna had aged since he'd known her. That first meeting at Downton, she'd been in her mid 20's, an accomplished young woman but she was still very young. Over a decade had passed since that time, and could see the years reflected on her face. A few lines here and there, that single gray hair...

And a lifetime of sorrow in her blue eyes.

While Bates knew that he was innocent of murder, he was guilty of theft. He'd stolen three years of Anna's life while he was in prison, three years she gave to him willingly, innocently. Like a true con artist, he'd somehow convinced her to remain true to him, to fight for his release, despite giving nothing back to her. And he had nothing to offer her, nothing at all. She subsisted on her pure, misguided love for him, like a beautiful flower alone in the desert.

But no more.

Bates could not watch her squander more precious years of her life away waiting for him. He would never be released from prison, never be free to give her even a fraction of the life she deserved. The only honorable thing to do was to go back on his word to her, to break his vows and set her free from hers.

"I've spoken with my lawyer," he went on, fighting back the tears that threatened to drown him. "He's in the process of putting together divorce papers."

By the expression on Anna's face, she'd have been less shocked if he'd taken out a gun and shot her. Her mouth fell open slightly as she stared at him, all color draining from her face.

"You aren't serious," she managed.

"I'm very serious, Anna."

"What... I don't understand."

Her tears were coming - he could see them welling up in her eyes as readily as his own.

"_Three years_, Anna, and we've found no evidence."

"I'll go back and look at everything again," she offered quickly, wringing her hands in front of her. "I'll quit my job and look full time. I know I've missed something-"

"No," he said severely, not caring if he got the attention of the wardens. "I want you to stop this, Anna, and let me go."

"Never." Her tears flowed freely, her face as devastated as the day they'd sentenced him to death.

Now he wished they'd hung him, if only to spare Anna this prolonged torture.

"I never should have married you. It was selfish of me, so incredibly selfish-"

"No it wasn't. I insisted-"

"I should have had the grace to let you go then rather than drag you through all this-"

Anna continued to shake her head at him. "I won't listen to this."

"You're wasting your life with me as your husband," he told her, but she was already talking over him again.

"You're not doing this. You made vows to me-"

"It's for your own good-"

"-and I made vows to you-"

"It isn't fair to keep you to those vows," he growled sharply.

"Fair?" she demanded. "None of this is fair. You're in prison for a crime you didn't commit. The life we were supposed to have was torn away from us and now I live every day hoping for a miracle. How is any of it fair?"

"Anna, if we keep on like this, you'll end up wasting your life."

Ignoring his pleas, she pleaded with him, "Do you love me?"

Bates rubbed his hands across his face. Knowing he couldn't lie to her, he stayed silent and averted his eyes. A moment later, she demanded again, more desperately, "John, do you love me?"

"You know I love you," he said finally, the admission torn from his throat.

"Then stop this nonsense. I won't listen to it."

Forcing his voice into utter calmness, he told her, "You need to listen, Anna. This is your future we're talking about."

"My future is with you."

"If your future is with me, then you have no future," he gasped.

Anna sobbed openly as she sat across from him, her broken and bleeding heart evident for not only for him to see but also the two closest wardens who were watching them with interest. Bates had not realized he could despise himself more than he already did, but in that moment, seeing the betrayal in her eyes, he understood the true meaning of self-loathing.

"Why are you doing this?" she all but whispered through her tears.

How many times had he left her crying? How much pain had he caused her in the years since they'd met? John Bates had never struck a woman in all his years, but he felt like an abuser for all the hurt and suffering he'd caused her.

Belatedly, he wondered what kind of life Anna would have had if he'd never been around to ruin it. Would she have accepted Mr. Moseley's attentions? Or one of the young men from the village? Would she be a mother already, with one child on the hip and another growing inside her?

Would she be happy?

"With me out of your life, maybe you can actually have a life. Meet someone... start a family..."

"That's not what I want," she declared. "I want you."

"You can't have me," Bates seethed. Why couldn't she understand? The life they dreamed of together was never going to happen, not for him at least. But it could still happen for her. She could still find happiness. "You come to visit me, you write me, and to what end? I'm in here and you're out there, and nothing is going to change that."

Anna continued to shake her head, no longer bothering to dry the tears on her face. "It doesn't matter where you are or what separates us. I will always love you. Only you."

He shook his head violently. "And I love you enough to keep you from wasting your life for the love of me."

Before either of them could say more, a warden stepped up behind Bates and gripped his arm. "Visitin' time is over. Back to your cell."

His last image of her as they took him away was of his beautiful, faithful wife in tears, her heart as shattered and broken as all her hopes and their shared dreams. His only consolation was the unsteady wish that she could mend the pieces together and move on without him.

* * *

The wardens who had a particular fondness for Bates' pretty young wife decided it was fitting that he be punished for bringing her to tears in the visiting room. The beating hurt less than the pain of what he'd done to Anna, so Bates bore it without much complaint. Bruises would fade. The screaming pain in his knee would eventually settle back to a dull ache. But the memory of Anna's face would stay with him forever.

Two letters came from her that week, just as they always did. But he could not bring himself to open them. Despite what he had done to her, Bates knew her writings would be full of declarations of love for him, of hope and dreams for their future. He had no right to her happy thoughts.

* * *

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Okay, I fibbed. This'll be three parts. Thanks for the great feedback on chapter one and please leave a review and let me know what you think of this chapter.

* * *

The next visiting day, a warden came to his cell. "Bates," he grumbled, "Yer wife's here to see you."

After thinking long and hard about it, Bates knew he had to make this a clean break. Continuing to see her, to write to her... it would only prolong the pain and give her hope that he'd change his mind. And as much as he wanted to give in to her pleas, to let her continue loving him from behind the prison walls, Bates simply could not continue to do that to Anna.

"I don't wish to see her," he said quietly.

The warden grunted. "Woman rides a bus every fortnight to come visit you, you should have the decency to go talk to her."

"It's none of your concern."

"Well it ain't really your choice now is it?" the man demanded, grabbing Bates up by a piece of his shirt and bodily dragging him from his cell. Knowing he could not win against the warden, Bates gave up the fight and limped towards the visitor's area without protest. The warden followed close behind him and moments later, he pushed Bates into the chair in the barred room across the table from Anna.

"There you are, ma'am," the warden told her, touching his fingers to the brim of his hat before leaving them alone.

"God, what have they done to you?" Anna gasped at the sight of her husband.

Most of the bruises from the previous week's beating had faded to ugly greens and browns, but they were still clearly visible. She reached out to touch her hand to his face but stopped herself with a glance at the guard. Touching was against the rules and might earn him more abuse at their hands.

Without thinking, he responded, "You have a few fans among the wardens who didn't like how I treated you last time."

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Already looking tired and sad and like the world was planted firmly on her shoulders, Anna deflated under the suggestion that he'd been beaten because of her.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, "I shouldn't have said that. None of this is your fault."

Ignoring his statement, she put her hands on the table in front of her and declared, "I spoke with your solicitor this week."

His eyes widened. Then she'd seen the divorce petition. She knew exactly what he was about.

"Did you sign it?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "But the way you made it sound before, I wanted to talk to him. And now I know the truth."

The truth was, he had no grounds to seek a divorce from Anna. The solicitor had told him the only way would have been to accuse her of adultery and come up with some evidence to prove it. But Anna Bates had never been unfaithful to him, not in body or in spirit, and he flatly refused to even pretend otherwise. The divorce from a convicted murderer would be enough of a stain on her character; he would not add to it.

_"Draw up a petition for her to sign," Bates had suggested instead. "Allege whatever you need to get her out of this. Desertion, cruelty - whatever you can think of - and I'll swear to it under oath."_

_The solicitor had known Bates for some years, having advised the man on how to extract himself from Vera's clutches. He knew the incarcerated man had no wish to lose his wife, not _this _wife, but Bates felt obliged to set her free of a most improvident marriage._

_"I can say that you threatened her harm if she didn't marry you, and that by your incarceration you have abandoned her both bodily and financially. But ultimately, these will have to be her allegations, Mister Bates. You can stipulate to what you're saying as facts, but you'll have to convince her to file the petition for divorce..."_

"Did you really think I would sign my name to those horrible lies?" Anna demanded. "You think I would accuse you of those things?"

Of course he hadn't thought she would, not really. But he'd hoped. He hoped that when presented with an escape from the farce of a marriage he'd trapped her in, that she would seize it and get as far away from him as she could.

"I think you _should _sign it," he said. "You should sign it, you should walk out of here, and you should never look back."

But she was ready for his arguments.

"If we're going on 'shoulds' then I should never have fallen in love with you all those years ago, shouldn't I? But I did. And you fell in love with me, remember?"

He said nothing. Anna waited in silence, but Bates kept his eyes glued to the table between them.

"Is there someone else?" she asked finally, almost so quiet that he couldn't hear her over the distant conversations of the other inmates and visitors in neighboring cells.

Someone else? Aside from the absolutely absurd question of how he would meet another woman while imprisoned, Bates could not conceive of Anna ever believing that was the heart of his decision.

He shook his head. "Of course not."

"Because I would only let you go if I thought there was someone else." She paused, unable to catch her breath. "I wouldn't do what Vera did. I wouldn't trap you-"

"There is someone," he found himself saying.

"What?" Anna blinked at him in surprise, and he knew that she never really believed there was a rival for his affections. But now she was unsure and the uncertainty in her eyes hurt so much to witness..

"There is a woman. She's young and beautiful and full of kindness. She comes to visit me frequently, and she writes to me." Bates paused, taking a breath. "I love her, Anna. I love her more than life itself. But despite loving her, despite wanting only the best of everything for her, I've managed to ruin her life."

"John-" she tried to interrupt, realizing who he was talking about.

But he continued, "She wasted so many years waiting for me so we could be together. And for the past three years, she's had to endure being the wife of a convicted murderer. She's had to put up with the stares and whispers behind her back, her name printed in the paper. She gave up her future by marrying me. She gave up having someone to share her home and her bed, she gave up the possibility of _children _to be my wife."

He paused, the very force of his words making it difficult to breath. "All of this she endures, she endures without complaint or recrimination, because she loves me. Now tell me, Anna, what about me is worth so much pain and sacrifice? Truly? What about the man sitting before you is worth so much heartache?"

Anna said nothing for several minutes. His words had left him dizzy and red-faced, perspiration dotting his forehead. He waited for her to speak, held her gaze with hard eyes, his hands clasped together so hard that his knuckles burned white from the force of his grip.

Finally, Anna spoke. "I told you once, after the trial, that I'd do it all again. I'd marry you again were we not already married. We didn't know then what would happen, if you would live or die. Perhaps you thought I only meant it if you were hung, but I didn't. I meant it no matter what."

Taking a deep breath, she favored him with a smile as she went on, "I am so proud to be your wife. You are the best man I have ever known and the only man I will ever love. I don't want to be with anyone else. Not ever. I don't want to have another man's children or sleep in another man's bed. I want you. And if all we ever have is an hour a week and as many letters as we can write, then that is the life I want."

"Anna-"

"I love you, John Bates. You are worth everything to me, absolutely _everything_. And I don't care if you're in here for another three years or another thirty years. I will stand by your side every one of them."

Shaking his head, he said, "I can't do that to you, Anna."

With a deliberately dismissive shrug, Anna declared, "It's done. We are married, Mr. Bates. For better or worse, you are my husband, and I don't regret it. Loving you has been the greatest joy of my life and I won't give you up. You have no way to be rid of me, not if I refuse to sign those papers. Your solicitor told me as much. You can return my letters and refuse to see me when I visit you, but that won't stop me from loving you."

Bates heard the warden unlock the barred door to their small visiting room behind him a second before he heard the words he both longed for and dreaded. "Visit's over."

If asked later, Bates would not have been able to explain why he did it. Maybe it was to comfort his strong but shattered wife, to offer some confirmation of the love she'd spoken of. Maybe he did it to steal just a moment's contact so long denied to them, perhaps their last contact if he had his way in convincing her to move on. But moving quickly, he reached across the table and took Anna's glove-clad hands in his own. She stared at him in shock and alarm.

They'd snuck touches a few times before, but usually the wardens were too watchful for them to get away with it often. Bates did it this time in full view of the warden who'd brought him from his cell, the one who so disliked him. He knew what would happen.

"No touching!" the warden shouted, dragging Bates back from the table. Another warden appeared in short order and he was grateful that they took him out of Anna's sight before the beating began.

* * *

They suspended his visitation privileges for two months after the stunt he pulled, touching his wife's hands. Bates decided it was just as well because he did not want Anna to see his black, swollen eye, and how badly he now limped.

But they let him have her letters.

He broke down and read the two he'd previously set aside. They both said the same things Anna had told him at their last visit. She loved him. She would not consent to a divorce. She had no wish to be rid of him. She loved him.

She loved him.

She must have written the words fifty times in each letter.

She also admonished him for trying to remove him from her life. She did not outright confess to the pain he'd caused her, but she did let her anger be known.

Her third letter came a few days later, written after their latest visit. This note proved more emotional as Anna asked about the bruises she'd seen on him and the angry wardens who'd taken him away. She agonized over what had been done to him and the part she'd played in upsetting the wardens. Her guilt tore a hole in his heart and he vowed to never again let her see him injured.

If he let her see him again at all.

A selfish, shameful side of him wanted to simply accept her words and let her carrying on loving him. But Bates was still not convinced that continuing on the way they'd been was best for her. Although Anna had informed him with no uncertainty that she would not seek the divorce, he wondered if it still wouldn't be better to let her have some time away from him. Perhaps with some distance, she'd be more willing to let him go.

One of the guards had even given him the suggestion of, "You could always just kill yourself. That'd free her up, sure 'nough."

In truth, he had never considered suicide, not once since his conviction. Removing himself permanently from the world would certainly solve Anna's problems where he was concerned. She would be a widow rather than a divorcee, and his death would force her to give up on him just as surely as if he'd been executed.

But he knew it would also destroy her, utterly and completely. If he killed himself in prison, that act would reach out through the bars and across the distance to Downton and crush her very soul. She would take the blame on herself because she would know why he'd done it - to free her. He'd known men in the army who committed or attempted suicide, and he remembered the regret and grief-ridden faces of the loved ones they left behind.

Bates simply could not inflict such inhuman guilt on Anna, not even for what he considered to be her own good. Such an action would be too cruel, and he feared she might never recover. No, as much as he might suffer living out his remaining years behind bars, enduring the self denial of her love, it would be far too selfish to end his own misery at the expense of Anna's.

He would content himself with his memories of her, the images burned into his mind of every moment they shared.

He did not write her back. While it felt selfish to read her letters without sending her ones in return, he couldn't do it, not in light of what he was trying to accomplish. Besides, what would he say? How could he tell her better in written form than what he'd said during their visits?

But about a week after their last visit, Bates received another letter from Anna.

This one contained news.

* * *

_TBC_

**A/N: Regarding a suggestion someone made about Mr. Bates committing suicide to truly "free" Anna - I decided to address that issue within the story. While I could realistically see the character being driven to consider such an act of desperation, ultimately I don't think he'd do it (for the reasons I gave in the story).**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, last installment on this one. I'm very grateful for the feedback from everyone.**

* * *

It took close to a month to get the judgment from the court releasing him. The testimony from Mrs. Bartlett proved difficult for Anna to track down as the woman had moved to the continent shortly after Vera's death. But after much letter writing and, he suspected, a bit of money changed hands under the table, Mrs. Bartlett was finally prevailed upon to tell her story truthfully.

In the end, it meant that Bates would be a free man.

The wardens gave him no special attention on the day he was released. He'd anticipated another beating, a parting reminder of his time in prison. Instead, they simply brought him the suit he'd worn to trial so he could change out of his prison wear. The old clothes had moth damage and hung on his thinner frame, but he switched into them eagerly. They'd even retained his bowler hat and cane, for which he was grateful.

As he stepped out of the door to the prison, finally a free man, he could barely contain his elation and quiet the desperate beat of his heart. He'd never thought it was possible. Indeed, he'd given up all hope of freedom, and he'd given up Anna. Thankfully for him, Anna had not given him up, despite the heartache he'd put her through.

She was waiting for him outside the prison. He hadn't been entirely sure she would.

Under her wool jacket she wore a filmy white shirt, the one he remembered from their wedding. And while the clouds in the sky cast shadows over the city, Anna seemed to be made completely of sunshine. Flashing him a grin of utter delight, she ran to meet him, not stopping until she found herself caught up in his arms.

For a moment, he simply held her, everything else forgotten but the feel of her, warm and soft and so very real. Unlike his dreams, she was actually there, her arms tight around him, the scent of her engulfing him. After three long years, he could finally touch his wife properly again, could assure himself that she was flesh and blood and not an ephemeral angel from heaven.

"Thank God," she noted as they broke apart.

He had to chuckle at her simple expression of relief. "No," Bates told her. "Thank you."

And he kissed her. He could have kissed her forever right there, before God and the rest of the universe. But as she pulled away from him and took his hand to lead him back to the car, Bates remembered that they had a life waiting for them.

* * *

Anna refused to discuss it for a long time after. Every time he brought up the subject, she'd ignore him or change it to a more pleasant topic. And for a long time, he let her avoid it, let her distract him with kisses and smiles and wistful plans for their future.

He let her avoid it as he retook over his job as Lord Grantham's valet and settled back into life at Downton, and he did not press the subject as they spent time getting the cottage ready to move into. Nor did he bring it up those first few weeks of marital bliss when everything felt amazing. Every kiss was like their first kiss and every touch left him wanting more. They could not get enough of each other and Bates had no desire to ruin their newly wed feeling, at least not right away.

But finally, one day a few weeks after his release from prison, Bates could stand it no longer.

"Are we ever going to talk about it?" he asked one evening while she was in the kitchen preparing tea. He'd just arrived at the cottage from the house, the issue having pressed on him all day.

"Talk about what?" Anna asked.

"About what I said to you, before, in prison."

He needed to elaborate no further. Her eyes darkened immediately in understanding, a cloud falling across her face.

"I don't see why we need to talk about it," Anna responded, focusing on the kettle rather than him.

With a sigh, he contradicted, "I think we must."

She shook her head. "You're home now, away from that horrible place. It's forgotten."

"We both know that isn't true."

He'd hurt Anna - badly. She rarely let it show, but sometimes he could see it deep in her eyes. The implicit trust she'd always given him had been shaken from its foundation. He'd done it with the best of motives, with the purest of intentions, but he'd still caused his wife unspeakable pain. Unforgivable pain.

"I only wanted what was best for you, but I know how much I hurt you."

"You gave up on me," she said, finally turning towards him.

"I was trying to set you free," he explained. "I never, ever gave up on you."

As Anna responded, he could hear the hurt in her voice, a sort of pain he knew was devoid of anger or resentment. Rather, it was the sound of submissive suffering. "You wanted me to divorce you, to accuse you of abandonment and cruelty. As if you've ever been cruel to me in your life and as if you had any choice in leaving me. And why? So I could move on and forget you. You hoped I would eventually marry again, have children, build a different life. Those are all very noble wishes, John."

"Noble... and misguided?" he asked cautiously.

"Noble and _stupid_."

He nodded in agreement with her description. "Can you ever forgive me?" he asked.

"How am I supposed to forgive you for wanting me to have a better life?"

"Forgive me for hurting you," Bates suggested.

Anna took a shuddering breath, as though reliving the agony he'd put her through. "I don't know. I don't know if I can ever forgive you for that."

He supposed that he deserved the wave of utter wretchedness which washed over him at her pronouncement, but it still sickened him all the same.

"Then that makes two of us," he reflected.

Only the small length of the kitchen separated them, and Bates suddenly yearned for his wife's warmth. Even if he was forever denied her forgiveness, he knew he still had her love. She'd demonstrated that would remain constant, no matter what happened between them. And now, at long last, thanks to her perseverance and faith, he had a lifetime to try and make it up to her.

"Anna..." he began, not sure what to say.

While he did regret hurting her, he could not help but continue to believe that his actions had been right and proper at the time. He knew Anna, and he knew that her honor and integrity would have kept her faithful to him through a lifetime of incarceration. He also knew that if he'd let her go through with such a sacrifice, it would be a worse crime to him than even the murder for which he'd been convicted.

Anna deserved so much - happiness and joy and love. He could never be the reason for her not having those things.

"I promise to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you," Bates said.

She regarded him for a moment, seemingly considering his statement. Finally, she responded, "Just spend the rest of your life loving me, and I'll call it square."

"I will love you until my last breath, Anna Bates," he told her with utter sincerity. "And be there an afterlife, I will continue to love you with all of my heart and my soul."

Even as he moved towards her, she stepped forward to meet him. Enveloping her in his arms, he marveled once again at this freedom. Beyond all the colors in the fields or the brightness of the sky, the thing he missed the most while in prison was the freedom to touch his wife.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
